11:45
Molly.
Molly.
Molly.
Her name, her face, her voice, her laugh all flew around Sherlock Holmes' head like autumn leaves in the wind. Memories tinged with despair and hopelessness.
He remembered when he first saw her; she was standing in the morgue, examining the body of a teenage boy who had died from alcohol poisoning the night before…she was concentrating, she was so, so careful and respectful and kind. Her small hands gliding over the adolescent's torso with skill and consideration. She was perfect, like an angel in white, glowing. She looked sad as she worked, Sherlock never understood why. Not until later, not until after he met John, not until the memory of humanity and compassion seeped back into his blood. Sherlock ached as he remembered how badly he treated Molly from that moment on, taking advantage of her naivety and her obvious infatuation she felt for him. How could he have treated her so badly? How many years did she live in quiet pain because of his actions and words?
'Molly. I'm sorry' He thought as his emotional and physical pain glided through his body like a cancer.
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
Sherlock saw a door opening in front of him.
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
"There must be something in this ridiculous Mind Palace that can calm you down" A voice came through the door as a white light engulfed him. After what felt like an eternity, a figure appeared. Mycroft Holmes was always the first voice Sherlock heard in moments of misery, he never understood why – Mycroft never was one for sympathy.
"Molly Hooper's time is running out" Mycroft said as the outline of his grey office built itself around his figure. He was leaning on his desk now, staring at Sherlock expectantly. "What are you going to do about it? A lot can happen in fifteen minutes Sherlock"
"I will burn the heart out of you" Moriarty's threat began to echo and ring around Sherlock's head. The voice was fierce and calculating, dominating, cold. It was moving. Sherlock spun around and ran out of Mycroft's office, following the fading threat. Suddenly he found himself outside, the cold January air suddenly hitting his face. He gasped in shock at the bitter wind. He was on The Embankment, the waters of the Thames flowing past him, the lights of the city dancing on its surface. Sherlock turned towards Big Ben, and saw the hands fixed on 11:45. He then turned to his left where Lestrade and Sally Donovan had suddenly appeared, they were standing beside their police car. Lestrade was watching the door of the Little Brown Bookshop, his mobile phone in his hand. They both looked anxious.
"I don't suppose you have the time, Sherlock" A voice came from behind him and he whirled around, his head now feeling tired and faint. The person beside him was out of focus…but it was…it must be.
Molly.
Molly.
Molly.
"What's the point of eyes and ears if you don't observe Sherlock" Molly's voice was direct and calm. "Do you have…" She started as she thrust her hand into his inside coat pocket, grabbing a hold of something. "the time" she finished as she pulled out his iphone. His phone! His iPhone was still in his pocket! Sherlock felt unconsciousness seize him and the world seemed to be split in two. He began to fall backwards.
"A lot can happen in fifteen minutes Sherlock" Mycroft's voice rang in his ears as The Embankment slowly faded from view. Lestrade turned to Sherlock, his phone in his hand, his anxiety unfaltering.
"It has to be quick" Molly's voice danced around his Mind Palace.
"I will burn the heart out of you" Moriarty's voice joined in, singing, laughing, coldly scolding.
"Moriarty will see through you, Sherlock. But it's the only way to save me. Two words" Molly's voice was growing more and more faint.
"There must be something in this ridiculous mind palace to calm you down" Mycroft's voice was loudest, masking everyone else out.
Molly.
Molly.
Molly.
The door to the Mind Palace closed and Sherlock Holmes' eyes opened.
"Yes…yes…yes!" Moriarty's voice grew louder and louder as he walked back and forth in the small room. Sherlock lay on his side, the pain of the beating waking up and aching him all over "You sound like a parrot Sherlock…Molly, Molly, Molly" He said, amusement and anger growing equally across his malicious face.
Sherlock began to pull himself up into an awkward sitting position, his eyes adjusting to the bright light of the room. Then Moriarty began to laugh…it was a ghastly, menacing cackle, dramatic and cruel and playful all at once. "Molly Hooper is going to die Sherlock" He said, with stark finality "It's the way it must be I'm afraid. She fooled me you see and…I don't like to be fooled. I don't like to be proved wrong. I'm not usually one to underestimate people, but…I underestimated her" He shook his head in petty irritation. Sherlock watched as Moriarty began pacing back and forth, waiting for his opportunity to reach for his phone. Moriarty stopped pacing for a moment as he took a long intake of breath. "You love her", Moriarty said at last, turning to his foe. "And she loves you. You know, it's funny. I was right"
"About what?" Sherlock asked, frustration and anxiety growing in his chest.
"When we first met you said you didn't have a heart and I said that wasn't true" Moriarty said, his smile not leaving his lips. "I was right"
"Yes you were" Sherlock said with not a hint of shame in his voice.
"Do you remember Redbeard?" Moriarty said suddenly, catching Sherlock off guard.
"I'm not a child anymore" Sherlock said, repeating the same words he said to Mycroft at John and Mary's wedding.
"Yes you are" Moriarty said, quietly as he turned away, thinking. "You're still a child Sherlock. By holding back emotions and pushing away love for so many years, you may be an adult Sherlock, in physicality and complexion, but emotionally…" He began to mimic a baby's cry "You're just a child".
"And you're my therapist?" Sherlock said, growing more and more aware of the time ticking by. "And you're stalling"
"Stalling? Stalling what? I'm waiting Sherlock. If I was stalling you that would indicate I'm expecting something. I'm not expecting…." His voice was cut off, a sound was getting louder and louder moving over their heads. Sherlock looked up, he knew immediately what was happening.
'Mycroft Holmes' He thought, smiling "You never resist the urge to butt in'.
As Moriarty moved towards the small window to see what was going on, Sherlock looked up at Moran who was also distracted by the overpowering noise of the helicopters. Sherlock pushed his hand into his pocket and took out his phone.
"Two words, Sherlock" Molly's voice echoed in his head.
He began to type the text, Moriarty was now talking quietly to Moran by the window, a panicked expression written on his features. Sherlock finished typing and moved his finger to the send button. BIG BEN.
Sherlock felt a wave of relief roll over his entire body as he slumped back onto the floor. He didn't care what Moriarty would do to him, what could he do? All the cards Moriarty once held had just been snatched from him and he hadn't even noticed.
Sherlock knew that Greg Lestrade and Mycroft would do everything in their power to help Molly, to get her out of Big Ben and get rid of that calamitous bomb.
"Caring is not an advantage" For the first time in Sherlock Holmes' life, he disagreed. Caring was all that mattered. Molly was all that mattered now.
Moriarty and Moran suddenly reared to life. Moran moved away from the window picking up his mobile phone and put it to his ear. He moved out of the room. Moriarty was silent for a few moments, staring out the small window. He then turned to Sherlock. Sherlock stared at his nemesis with a new found courage. He wasn't intimidated as Jim Moriarty leant down beside him, his cold black eyes severe.
"I suppose you think you've won?" Moriarty said, then he shook his head slowly. "I suppose you think it's over". A smile began to form once more; it grew and grew until it seemed almost caricatured…exaggerated, like a political newspaper cartoon. He held up his phone.
"You see this Sherlock"
"It's your phone"
"It's my phone" He said as he leaned closer. His hand moved towards Sherlock's face, slowly and began gliding down his cheekbone, then down his neck and his chest. It then descended down, into Sherlock's pocket and reached for his phone. Moriarty held it up. "And this is yours. You thought I didn't see you texting. I have eyes at the back of my head." His smile taunted Sherlock as he suddenly threw the mobile behind him and it smashed against the wall. "You've saved Molly Hooper from my cage. But remember" He held up his own phone again "I still have the key. Miss Adler used to say her whole life was on her phone, remember. Mmmm, she was yummy wasn't she?" He licked his lips, moving closer to Sherlock. "Well, the same goes for me. My life is here. You once called me a spider at the centre of a web; well Sherlock, this is my web. If I want Buckingham palace to be rigged with explosives tomorrow, done. If I want twenty planes hijacked tonight above Istanbul, done, easy. But what I love most about my web Sherlock is it is so…expansive. I have thousands of contacts, more than my Facebook friends and that's saying something", he laughed, looking down at his phone and typing something. "You're brother may have the bulk of the armed forces Sherlock, but I have something better; the element of surprise, and one thousand texts. One thousand people once loyal to you. One thousand texts," He said as he pressed a button. "All sent."
Sherlock looked at Moriarty, realisation filling his every fibre. One thousand texts. One thousand members. One thousand homeless minions.
"One thousand guns against Sherlock Holmes. One thousand men." He said quietly in Sherlock's ear. Sebastian Moran then moved back into the room and walked towards Moriarty. "Yes, many of them will die, that's inevitable. But that's a risk I've never been afraid to make and who knows, one man, one gun...one bullet may reach one of your precious little friends...your little live-in pets and maybe, just maybe, one will happen to hit your precious Molly Hooper and then, well, there will be a victory for me after all, won't there?"
"The boat is here boss" Moran said, gruffly.
"Perfect" Moriarty responded. "It was nice to talk Sherlock, but I have to dash. We won't meet again" As Moriarty turned to Moran, Sherlock took his chance and jumped up off the floor. He lunged at Moran with extreme force and pushed him to the ground. Moriarty scampered backwards and fell to the floor. He watched as Sherlock hustled against Moran with rage, violently punching him in the face and jaw. Moriarty saw Moran's gun had fallen a few feet from him so he began moving towards it but Sherlock was too quick. He moved across the room and grabbed the gun up and pointed it at his nemesis. Moriarty stared down the barrel which was pointed at his head, he was shocked at first but then he started to giggle.
"It's too late Sherlock" He said between breaths. "You're friends are going to die"
But then, the door suddenly burst open and Mycroft Holmes filled the frame. He was surrounded with about fifty armed soldiers and John Watson. Sherlock and Moriarty turned towards them both wearing expressions of surprise.
"Christ, Sherlock" John said as he looked down at Moriarty and Moran, his gaze then moved to Sherlock's bloody face and hands.
"Where's Molly?" Sherlock said frantically, remembering the threat.
"Nice to see you too" John scoffed, then seeing Sherlock's face he changed his tone "Lestrade and Sally are getting her from Big Ben, like you said"
"We need to get out of here. They need our help. They need us" Sherlock said, trying to stay calm. He turned to Mycroft in desperation "Please"
"Alright Sherlock" Mycroft said, his voice calm and collected. Sherlock took a deep breath. "First we need to seize these two" He said, referring to Moriarty and Moran "And then we'll deal with your homeless network, brother mine, I hear they've been rebelling against their great leader" He said as he indicated to the armed forces soldiers to move into the room to grab Moriarty and Moran. Sherlock moved out of the room with Mycroft and John by his side, dread filling every muscle in his body. All he could think about was his pathologist, his beautiful pathologist and the danger she was in.
Molly.
Molly.
Molly.
I will never let anyone hurt you again.